She nodded.
Everything shifted off balance. My breath stalled. My knees weakened. I clutched the edge of the couch.
Images flashed in my mind.
The time she came into my office after meeting a friend. She was trembling, her eyes were unmistakably glassy.
‘Did someone say anything to you? Did something happen? Who was it?’
‘N-no. I just … I … my friend and I argued. I’m upset because of it.’
I knew that wasn’t it. And still, I let it drop.
The fashion show. She’d slipped out early and sat pressed against the door in the car, looking out of the window as if her mind was far away from her. She felt distant. Fragile. And at home, when she stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes were red, her skin pale.
‘Are you okay? You seem … different.’
‘I’m fine. Just had a long day.’
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
She refused, and once again, I left it at that. Didn’t insist she tell me her problems. Didn’t try to find out.
Last week.
She always brought me my chai on time. But that one morning, she was late. When I went to the kitchen in search of her, she was standing there, clutching the counter, looking sick.
‘Are you okay? You look … unwell.’
‘Nothing. I was just … for a second, I felt a little dizzy.’
Twenty minutes later, we’d run into Dad and Rekha. She didn’t even look at them. She looked like she was going to throw up.
The skipped meals. The excuses.Not hungry. Every moment I’d failed to see burned into me. How many more times were there? Moments I didn’t even know about?
I pressed the heel of my palm into my eyes. Guilt wasn’t a single emotion. It was a smear: anger at Rekha, shame at my blindness, grief for the person Ananya had become.
‘I thought I was the one losing everything,’ I whispered, my voice breaking. ‘But Ananya … fuck. I didn’t even see it.’
There was sorrow and pity in the way Rhea looked at me. ‘She didn’t want you to know. You can’t read minds. My point is … she’s suffered too. You’re both victims here.’
You’re both victims.
A part of me wanted to reject it. Her suffering didn’t change the fact that she spied on me. Broke my trust. Even then, her images didn’t leave me. Trembling fingers. Pale skin. Red-rimmed eyes. Ananya had suffered because of Rekha’s schemes, too. She was bleeding out in front of me, and I didn’t see it.
Victims. Both of us. Different cages, same bars.
The full force of my fury shifted towards Rekha. And at myself for being so wrapped up in my pain that I’d missed hers even after she showed it to me.
A concoction of guilt, anger and confusion sluiced through my veins as I made my way home.
City lights streaked past in a blur of red, yellow and white.
Suddenly, the cab jerked to a stop and took a U-turn.
‘Sorry, took the wrong turn,’ the driver said.
Clarity cut through the fog. The road I’d gone down wasn’t going to take me where I wanted to go. There were no U-turns in life, but I could change my direction.
